Fix You
by PersianFreak
Summary: Eric has lived his whole life fearing the day his body will turn against him, until he meets Sookie. AH/OOC


**Fix You **_b_y _PersianFreak_

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Charlaine Harris; I just take them out to play.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I kinda love these guys, and this little ditty here, so let me know what you think.

* * *

><p><em>Lights will guide you home,<em>

_And ignite your bones._

_And I will try,_

_To fix you._

"_Fix You", Coldplay_

To say I knew I would love her the first moment I laid eyes on her would be absurd, not to mention inaccurate. I knew I wanted to fuck her, that much is true, and if the way she eyed me up and down was any indication, she wanted to fuck me too. For a second, as she scanned the bottle of shampoo and put it in a bag, I had a vision of pressing her against the wall in what was sure to have been a filthy public bathroom and fucking her until her lungs gave out. She gave me a knowing look, like she had just read my mind and was amused that I would even entertain such a scenario, and told me how much I owed. I held out my credit card but pulled it back at the last second, smirking at the way she put her hands on her hips. Even over the department store's standard ugly green smock I could see that she was curvy. That on top of how gorgeous she was, and I decided I wanted her. Sookie, it said on her little nametag.

"You going to run for it?" She inclined her head towards the bags of groceries.

"Nope. Just trying to figure out if you have a boyfriend."

"Visa, is it?" She snatched the card out of my hand. "And the answer is 'no'," she added as she swiped the card.

"No, you don't have a boyfriend?"

"No, I am not interested. Thank you." She was smiling though, as she handed me the receipt and a pen to sign it with.

"You into women?" I tapped my chin with the pen, and she longingly eyed the lineup that wasn't behind me. Half an hour to closing time, I wasn't really surprised.

"Nope."

"So then what is it? I'm good-looking, I'm not creepy." I quirked a brow, and she laughed.

"Wow, you are full of yourself."

"Are you refuting anything I just said?"

She gave me a long look and licked her gorgeous, full lips. "I am not. But I don't even know you, why should I go out with you?"

"Did I mention that I'm attractive and _not_ creepy?"

"So you're about on par with most other guys I know," she shrugged, and I would have been offended if she hasn't been flirting with me. "I don't even know your name." That could be remedied.

"I'm Eric. I'm twenty-five and I live with a roommate. I'm getting my Master's in BioMedical Engineering, and I have a crush on the cashier at the department store a few block from campus." I paused to let all that information sink in. What I didn't tell her, for another three months, was that I almost certainly had Huntington's. I say certainly because as a kid, I watched my dad spiral downwards from the occasional hand twitch to not even knowing who I was. I watched the dementia take over his body, and I watched as my broken-hearted mother did her best to take care of him even though he would scream at her, because he thought she wasn't his wife. By the end, he didn't even know me or my sister.

I had a fifty percent chance of having it, which meant that I had about a decade or so before the disease really started to set in, and maybe twenty years before I died a horrible, heart-wrenching death. More than likely alone in a facility after all my family gave up on me, because watching someone you love lose themselves so thoroughly to a disease is the hardest thing to witness.

I would know.

I had never told anyone else. My sister, Pam, got tested as soon as she could afford it and I took her out to celebrate, despite not having taken the test myself. I still hadn't, and I had no plans of doing so because I was what most people would call a fucking coward.

Lying in bed next to Sookie as she stroked her hands over my chest, I pressed a kiss into her hair and tried to work up the courage to tell this girl I was falling for that I had about fifteen more good years in me. Pointless, some would say, to waste so much time on a graduate degree when I wouldn't even be able to put it to good use in a few years.

"Sookie, my dad died of Huntington's." Even uttering the words triggered a whole set of memories I tried to avoid, in my day-to-day life. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to accept that she could very well not be strong enough. I tried to figure out if it was too late for me to be okay without her.

"What does that mean?" She sat up and the sheets fell to her waist, baring her breasts. We'd never had sex before; I'd chased her for weeks before she even went out with me, and it had taken her so long to be ready to move beyond kissing and some pretty heavy petting. I was such a pansy. Of course I wasn't going to be okay.

"You know what Huntington's is?"

She shook her head. "It makes you lose control of your body? I don't know much."

"Pretty much. It's a genetic disease. Once it really sets in, it takes approximately fifteen years before…"

"Before what?"

"Before the person dies," I whispered.

She fixed me with her burning gaze. "Genetic. What are the odds that you have it? Does your sister have it?"

"She got tested," I shook my head. "Odds are fifty-fifty."

Sookie exhaled like the breath had been knocked out of her. "Why haven't you gotten tested?" I shrugged, but she wasn't about to let that go. Of course she wasn't. "Eric, why haven't you gotten tested?"

"I don't want to find out."

"You don't want to find out if you're going to die?" She gaped. "How bad?"

I didn't need to ask to what she was referring; she wanted to know how bad it gets, at the end. "Bad. My dad didn't know any of us, and he could barely keep still. It's not pretty." More memories. I rubbed my temple and tried to get rid of the images.

"Well, you're going to get tested."

"Oh, am I?"

"Yes, you are. You have to find out."

"This is why I don't date," I muttered to myself, and Sookie lost it.

"Oh, well _excuse me_! I didn't ask you to chase me, did I Eric? That was all your plan. Why did you tell me now?"

"Why do _you_ care?"

"Because I'm falling in love with you, you fucking clueless coward!" She screamed out that last part. Quickly dressing herself on the little black dress she'd worn the previous night, Sookie faced me, tears in her furious eyes. I pulled on my boxers and stormed out of the bedroom, grateful that Alcide wasn't home to witness this. In the kitchen, I flicked on the coffee maker and sighed when I turned around to find Sookie.

"You're an _asshole_, Eric Northman. What was the point of this?"

Barely even nine, and I already had a headache. She had a point; what _was_ the point of it? I'd just wanted her, from the first second I laid eyes on her. Even in the terrible lighting of the store, she'd looked beautiful. And it had so quickly become so much more than just wanting to fuck her, not that fucking her had lost its appeal. Last night had been amazing, but what terrified me – and the real reason behind why I'd told her – was that I wanted her around, for ever. But I didn't want her around if it meant she had to watch me die. Not that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would die.

But she was falling in love with me. And I had walked away.

"I'm falling in love with you too," I told her, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

Sookie's eyes softened instantly and she moved to stand in front of me, her arms slipping around my waist. "Please, please get tested. Please, Eric." Her eyes filled with tears once again, and this time they trailed down her face.

"Are you going to leave me if it's positive?" That is not the question I had been meaning to ask. I was going to be defensive, I was going to ask why she cared, why it mattered. This question made me sound so pathetic; I'd spent twenty-five years living my life. After my dad died when I was nine, I'd spent sixteen years living like my genes didn't have the potential to kill me.

"I might leave you, if I decide we're no good for each other. I might leave you if I catch you cheating on me. I might leave you if you hit me, or if we fight all the time, or if for some other reason, we just can't be together. Eric, I can handle knowing that you have Huntington's. What I refuse to handle is not knowing."

I stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was serious, if she meant it. She opened her mouth, and I crashed mine against hers, not caring what else she had to say. I would do it, I'd get tested. After that speech, I'd be a jackass not to. If I was positive, I'd deal with it then, not that much would matter then. The suicide rate for people who test positive for genetic, debilitating diseases was pretty high, as it turned out.

"Eric," Sookie moaned, bringing me back to the present, and I hoisted her up on the counter to deepen the kiss. My hands greedily roamed her body and she arched into my touch when I cupped her breast.

"Bed?"

She shook her head. "Floor." What little clothes we were wearing came off, and I ended up on my back on the hard floor as she, for all intents and purposes, rode me. My fingers dug into her hips, probably leaving marks, and she cried out when I moved my mouth to her breasts. It felt amazing – _she _felt amazing – and I didn't even care that this wasn't comfortable at all for me. I braced my feet on the ground when I felt her getting tired, and used the leverage to pump up into her body. My name became a chant as she threw her head back and I cried out too, when I felt the first spasms of her impending orgasm.

"Come with me. Baby, come with me." She reached behind her to touch me and I jerked, yelling her name as she screamed mine and we came together. In her aftermath, Sookie tucked her face against my neck and I wrapped my arms around her, needing her as close to me as possible. Eventually she peeled herself off of me, and I peeled myself off of the floor, following her sticky and exhausted back into bed, ignoring the scent of coffee that was saturating the air. Under the covers Sookie pressed her body to mine and burst out crying as soon as I put my arms around her, effectively scaring the shit out of me.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No." She shook her head and clung tighter to my body so I just held her.

"Is this for me?" I murmured into her hair and she nodded. "Don't cry for me. I'm not worth it." She ignored that last remark, perhaps for the best, and I held her until she was calm.

Three weeks later, the envelope arrived and I walked over to Sookie's work, rather serenely, I thought. She was pretty busy but I asked her if she could take her break in a bit and I waited for her in the little coffee shop.

"Hey." I looked up and rose as she approached ten minutes later, giving her a smile that I didn't really mean. "What's up?" she asked, and I took her hand to lead her outside. It was actually nice out; sunny but not too hot, and I leaned against the wall as I handed her the envelope. "Is that…?"

"Yeah. I haven't opened it. I don't think I can."

"Do you want me to?" I nodded. With a shaky hand, Sookie tapped the side so the paper inside fell to one end before she ripped the top of the envelope, tucking the ripped section into the pocket of her apron.

"Wait, hold on," I stopped her, and she met my eyes warily. "When I asked if you would leave me if it's positive…" I gulped. "I want you to. I want us to break up."

She paused for a moment before hissing out, "Well, fuck you."

"Sookie, I'm not about to make you stay with me knowing what's going to happen."

"And it's all about you, is it?" she snapped. "You can break my heart today by being an ass about it, or you can break my heart later, assuming we even make it that far. I'm still going to be in love with you, you jerk, no matter what this says." She waved the letter. "You should have thought about this before you asked me out. You should have considered that I might fall in love with you. It was your mistake, so own up to it."

"You're not a mistake," I told her, so quietly that I wasn't even sure if she heard. "You're the best thing-… I love you too."

"Then don't leave me. Promise. No matter what this letter says, stay with me." I rubbed at my face and ran a hand through my hair. "Eric, promise me."

"I promise."

She smiled for a moment before her jaw tightened in determination as she unfolded the paper ever so slowly and skimmed the contents, searching for the most important part. As I watched, her eyes widened and filled with tears, her chin quivering as she lowered it to look at me. Oh god, I thought. It's positive. That's it, I'm a goner.

"It's negative."

"What?"

Sookie shoved the paper in my face with the biggest smile on her face. It made her little dimples show. "You're negative. The 'CAG repeat' marker-whatever, it's normal. You're negative for Huntington's, Eric."

"I'm okay. I'm okay?" I needed to confirm – after so many years of preparing myself for the other possibility – that I wasn't going to die because of Huntington's. It felt so fucking free to think that when I died, it would have nothing to do with my own body turning against me. Returning my attention to the present, I looked down at Sookie who was still looking at me like I was the best Christmas present she could have asked for. "Holy _shit_!" I gathered her in my arms and swung her around, not caring that she was squealing and that we were being stared at more than a few people. When I put her down it was only to cup her face and kiss her until I ran out of air, and even then I refused to move away. Her hands were on my chest and she giggled breathlessly as I pulled myself back together.

"Marry me," I blurted out, without thinking but as soon as I uttered the words I realized I meant them. I loved her, her and all her quirks. Her and her stubbornness, and that freckle on her stomach, and how much she sucked at time management, and how hard she'd laughed that one time when I told her about my weird crush on Miss Piggy.

But I wanted her. At twenty-three, she was probably too young to say 'yes', but God I wanted her to. "I love you so much," I murmured. "Just marry me. That's all I want."

A myriad of emotions flashed across her gorgeous face – gorgeous, shocked face – before she found the words. "Yeah. Yes, I'll marry you."

Later that night, she crawled on top of my naked body to murmur, "When I said I would marry you… You probably didn't think about it, so I'm giving you an out to take it back. We can just be us, no hard feelings." She smiles reassuringly.

I quirked a brow. "No, thank you."

"Eric, we've only been together for like, four months."

"I know how long it's been."

"Don't you think that's a little hasty?"

Regarding her for a moment, I said, "Maybe I should be the one giving you an out, hmmm? Are you regretting saying 'yes', Miss Stackhouse?" I tugged playfully on her hair.

"No! Not at all. Well…" She shook her head. "No. I do love you, Eric. That's not why I'm hesitant."

"Then why are you hesitant?"

"I'm worried that you asked because you were excited about your test results. I'm worried that you didn't really think it through. Can you honestly tell me you know me well enough to stay with me? Just me? To come home every day and be with _me_, to have kids with _me_, to share your whole life with _me_?"

Pushing her off, I moved atop her body and pressed a kiss into her lips. "The short answer is yes. I want all those things."

Sookie sighed, clearly a bit frustrated with me, "What's the long answer?"

"The long answer is that I've never told anyone about the Huntington's thing. Nobody but my sister knew that I hadn't gotten tested, or that there was even the possibility of me having it in the first place. I sure as hell didn't tell any girl I ever dated because I didn't want the pity. None of my friends know, not even Alcide, who I've been friends with for seven years. I told you because I needed to know that you were strong enough, and you were. You were stronger than me, even, because not only did I not plan on getting tested, I had no intention of making you stay with me if I were diagnosed. You're the only person who could have convinced me of either. I'd say that's because I love you, but it's really the other way around. You're the bravest, most extraordinary person I've ever met, and _that's _why I love you. If we hadn't gone through this together I still would think so, it just would have taken me longer to figure it out." I hesitated. "If you don't want to be engaged, I understand. I can wait. After all, you're only twenty-three. We have time." Figuring that she would need some time, I moved to lie on my side and flatten a hand on her bare stomach. She really was very beautiful, I thought as I watched her profile. If she decided to not be engaged, I would be disappointed, sure, but I could handle it if I knew that it was just a matter of time. But if I was the problem here… I didn't really want to think about that right now. I saw this whole ordeal as a bit of a sign; she was the reason I knew I didn't have Huntington's, so it seemed only right that I should spend my disease-free life with her. Not that I felt obligated to her; not at all.

I just fucking wanted her. In a decidedly different way than I had when we first met, but wanted her all the same.

"Baby, you have to say something," I murmured and she turned to give me an apologetic smile.

"No engagement," she told me softly and I felt my heart drop. No doubt seeing the hurt in my eyes, she quickly rolled onto her side and pressed her body against mine. "I do love you, and I'm yours. There's nobody else I want to be with, so ask me again in a year. If in a year we're still in love, I'll agree to marry you." I thought about it and nodded, a bit hesitantly at first so she stretched up to kiss my forehead. "Please don't be hurt. I didn't mean to hurt you, I love you so much."

"I love you too," I replied and draped an arm over her waist. "What you said makes sense. Okay."

"In the meantime, I thought maybe we could – I mean, if you want to – move in together." She smiled, adorably hopeful, and I reached out to push a tendril of her hair behind her ear.

"Okay," I repeated, my grin conveying my enthusiasm.

A year – to the day – later, I got down on one knee in the middle of our living room and asked her again, and she asked me what the hell took me so long. She said 'yes' though, so I slid the ring onto her finger and pulled her into a tight hug.

"You're a crazy, stubborn bitch, Stackhouse. You tell me to wait a year then ask me what took so long?"

"Well I thought you'd be eager enough to ask me before the year," she grumbled into my neck since I still hadn't let her go.

"I was afraid you were going to say 'no' again. A guy can only take so much rejection. You could have always asked me, you know."

"Oh, _now_ you tell me," she – my fiancée – laughed and I put her down long enough to claim her mouth like she'd claimed my everything.


End file.
